


A Hunt for Blood, Gems and Sand

by Draleman (drake930)



Series: A Hunt for Blood Gems and Sand [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood Elves, Deviates From Canon, Gen, Hunter - Freeform, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Paladin, Priest, Tauren - Warcraft, Undead, druid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drake930/pseuds/Draleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of stories about four characters who shape their lives in the wilds of Kalimdor, each trying to find their own way, learn more about themselves and what are they trying to achieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warming up to new people.

**Author's Note:**

> Content also available on http://a-hunt-for-blood-gems-and-sand.tumblr.com/
> 
> I have two wonderful editors that help me make this the project it is and continues to be.  
> Lin who makes sure that everything I write is coherent, understandable and easily read. Her blog is http://dream--walker.tumblr.com/  
> and Cake who makes sure that grammar and punctuation is in pristine condition.
> 
> In gaming terms they are my Alpha and Beta testers respectively

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two traveler groups meet for a business opportunity which unveils an important quest for one, an opportunity for another

It was a busy day for the small settlement known only as the Crossroads and it’s respective inn, located high up north in the vast Barrens. The Stonetalon mountains westward, the Ashenvale forest - north, Orgrimmar - east, and south nothing but the endless plains. The air was hot and unpleasant and the inn seemed to be drowning in wet and exhausting heat. Most of the visitors seemed well and content, but a group of four stood out.

“I heard that you would pay a good price for a good gem.” suggested a blood elf who sat at a lone table in the corner with three other people as he procured a large, green stone from his woolen backpack. The elf was tall and muscular, armed with a green, spiked mace and wore mismatched mail vest and greaves. His boots, not reaching the greaves, made him look like a petty beggar knight. However the stone he held was impressive, the size of his head, clean cut and glimmering in the torch lights of the inn.

The person sitting opposite of him examined it with a peculiar look. Her eyes were covered by blue goggles, but the confusion in her face was well visible. She was wearing a large blue robe concealing most of her pale blue skin. Her hair was ragged and messy and at her back a staff placed behind a belt strapped by her lower ribs. A priest of the Sylvanas forsaken, the elf concluded.

“This stone.. I don’t recognize. And I recognize all stones,” she mumbled, barely audible to the other people sitting at the table. The priest snatched the stone, before the beggar knight managed to yank it away, and stared at it intently, jamming it in her goggles, tapping with her sharp nailed fingers and hitting it against the desk with visible frustration.

The last two members of the group were rather disinterested about the current event. The ragged knight’s companion was another elf. A huntress with a lean, red bow strapped to her back, dressed in bright brown and red leather jerkin and pants. She stared at one of the walls and absent-mindedly played with a white, long legged spider on her shoulder the size of her head. On the other end of the table sat a tauren with dark fur and large pointy horns, wearing clothes made of animal furs much alike the huntress’s, except for their colour, which was more dark than red. He was fiddling with a quill and gazing at some scrolls covered in scribe runes, seemingly unsure about what he had written.

The knight looked more and more frustrated as the gem specialist prodded the gem violently. Finally in a burst of frustration she threw the stone at the table. “It’s not a gem, I don’t get it and I can’t quite explain it, but I’m not buying this.” 

The huntress blinked a couple of times, suddenly woken, and gave a chilling stare to the knight. 

"What, why not!? He raised his voice in desperation, "We’ve worked too hard for this to just have it as a pretty trinket on the cupboard!" 

"Pretty or not, I have no use for this…" the gem specialist paused and gestured at the green item,"…thing."

The tauren murmured and gathered his scrolls. “Are we finished here?” He asked with a low, droning voice filled with irritation and without waiting for an answer got up, catching a glimpse of the gem. “That indeed is of no value to you,” he agreed with slight curiosity, as he picked it up and gave it a close and careful look. The tauren grimaced and let off his gaze. With unexpected speed, he placed it in a small pouch and sprayed ten silver coins across the table. “I however, must have this.”

"That is not nearly enough for the gem of that size. It’s as large as your fists!" The knight wailed.

"Where did you get this?"

"We found it. In a cave we spent a night, down south."

The tauren looked at both elves sternly. The huntress’s face was a wall, showing nothing, but the knight was upset, angry and fearful. “You reek of lies, foul elf. This shard has the essence of the emerald dream within it. Yet it is tainted, festering with something dark and dangerous. It is a matter for the druids and I mean to take it to the arch druid Hamuul.”

The knight seemed worried, but not surprised. The tauren was certain they knew the ill aura that the stone raised. “You have been gravely foolish and just as irresponsible,” he scolded them quietly with a worrisome look, “Yet I’m willing to pay you, to do what is right.”

"As righteous and wise as you may pose, how are we to know that you are not just speaking dark words to get this prize cheap."

The tauren bristled at the insult. His eyes spelled murder in the huntress’s mind and she slowly and stealthily drew an arrow. Both arguers had gone tense and ready to draw weapons as the Priest interfered. “Ease up, Galtir. No one here will welcome fights.” The tauren calmed and the huntress let her arrow slide back in the quiver. Both sat down while the knight remained restless, but as he was about to begin a new protest the huntress spoke before him. 

"If this a matter as serious as you claim, I will come with you. My mind may be at peace for nature and my companions for his money."

"-but.."

"I have no interest in your issues, Vilien." The huntress rose and gave another cold look at her knight, "I’d like some time of peace and quiet and I want to know more about this shard."

The druid nodded in solemn agreement. “If you so wish, elf.” Few of the people of barrens liked strangers and the blood elves were as much strangers to the land as anyone. Every time the tauren mouthed the word elf it was filled with contempt. As a druid he had met the night elves. Arrogant people speaking of ancient heritages, birthrights and ancestry to the gods. Galtir had little love for them, but they had respect and love for nature. The pale and pink skinned elves known for their lust for power, endless vanity and greatness had made him much more uncomfortable. The huntress seemed just as proud, yet there was dignified wisdom and reason in her spoken words and face.

She was ready for a journey, the bags needed were with her. A backpack with clothes and a blanket, two pouches for food - hers and her spider’s. Two large flasks filled with pure stream water. A bow strapped to her shoulder and a dagger in its sheath secured at her belt.

The tauren got up from his chair now making his titanic size visible to the elves, towering over the rest, a head taller than Vilien, who was in turn taller than both women. “I will begin my way to Thunder Bluff in an hour as soon as I’ve prepared my supplies. Be ready by then.” The huntress turned her gaze to the tauren and fixed her eyes on his. In turn he looked over her attire. 

"Nevermind," he grumbled, walking out of the inn. The huntress followed, leaving Vilien and the priest alone.


	2. Poems of Tainted Blood. Pt. 1 Bitter brews, bitter thoughts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abandoned, Vilien relives the events that led them here.

Sad and confused Vilien stared at the far off wall past the innkeep. The Gem specialist, however seemed to have missed most of the interaction as she was working on a simple rock, which upon closer inspection, he realized, had a small crevice with a purple shine within.

He lingered in silence that was discomforting only to himself, but after a few agonizing minutes Vilien decided to break it.

"So I’ve heard you like, uh, gems." he pointed at the stone the gem enthusiast was examining.

"Huh? Yes, yes. Gems, minerals, stones.." she muttered growing increasingly quiet as her attention drifted off into the small stone again.The attempt was fruitless, he realized and left the table. His discomfort lurking behind him, and slunk to the innkeep asking for wine. He was an orc, green as any, large as any and unpleasant as any he had seen, and gave him a curious look and passed a flagon. The liquid was black, but Vilien dared not question the barkeep and brought the large cup back to the table. The gem enthusiast had begun working the stone with small odd tools to scrape, scratch and polish.

Still examining the priest’s gem work Vilien pushed the flagon to his lips and drank a sip of the black liquid only to be hit with the sudden bitter and strong taste of orcish stout. He spat it on the floor following his performance with a fit of coughing. A few of the regulars snickered. Embarrassed, Vilien placed the flagon on the desk. “Is this what my life has come to. Laugh all you want dumb creatures your time would certainly come,” He brooded.

After ten more minutes the huntress had come to say her goodbyes.

"The druid tells me it will be about 4 days travel as the lion runs. I intend to use the zeppelin on my way back if I will be weary of travel. In any case, I shall meet you there in 10 days, Orgrimmar. Ask for me at the "Fierce Screecher"."

Vilien nodded dismissively, “See you then Rilla.”

He brooded some more. The taste of the stout had gotten better and he was now drinking it in small sips. The gem polish had been going well and after an hour of files, picks, and other miniature weapons, the stone seemed to look less a stone and more a gem, an amethyst. The sight and process was interesting enough, but Vilien brooded and sulked nevertheless.

He had dreamed of Kalimdor, of grand adventures through endless forests with trees reaching the stars, planes covered in flowing sand, snowy mountain peaks and many more wonders of the other side of the world. Yet he was here in the Barrens, stuck for 2 months. Endless procedures, tasks and meetings met them at Orgrimmar. They had escorted a Blood Elf envoy to meet with Thrall, the leader of the orcish horde that had allied with the elves. Vilien had hoped to leave the first day, yet the envoy insisted upon them remaining until he was safely back on a ship or a zeppelin back to Quel’Thalas.

That had taken a month. Another week passed through endless shops and business that Rillithien had there. The huntress was amazed at the exotic wares and goods that were offered, while Vilien could not stand the crowded, stinking Orgrimmar. Durotar was brown and Orgrimmar the same, yet while Durotar was quiet and peaceful, Orgrimmar was loud and chaotic, filled with the oddest smells and people. The grand capital smelled of meat, blood and sweat, so abysmal and poignant he thought to retch each day. With the envoy they had the seats of honor and were served with unknown herbs and animals. The meat was fat and wet. The orcs ate things well burnt or almost raw and Vilien thought all these foods crude and barbaric. He would kill for a lean flank of a red lynx, neatly roasted, crispy and brown on the surface, soft in the inside, smelling so enticing one could not resist. Yet all he ate were bitter vegetables and sloshed into other brown herbs and fruit, and meat half fat, half boar or some lizard, drowned in said sauces. Everything was bitter or sweet or some horrifying combination of both. The dark beverages orcs chugged from large flagons and horns never appealed to him. but as the envoy was supplied with clear stream water, so was Vilien and his in negativity he avoided as much of the orc cuisine as possible.

When it was not food that tortured him, it was the harsh and crude people. No one understood chivalry or politeness, the everyday rush involved people ramming in each other, rushing through the crowds and Vilien thought some charging orc or tauren would break his armor. Rillithien however seemed endlessly amazed, gorging herself on the gross foods talking with fellow hunters, buying tools for her traveling plans and much, much more. She even had started speaking orcish fluently and without an accent.

Vilien had learned slower and his accent was soft and disfiguring. All the sounds seemed forced together, crushed into sounds his tongue would never agree with. But he did not leave the huntress’s side and learned. Whether he might have wanted to or not.

Rillithien objected at start asking him to embrace the new cultures, but soon lost interest in the bother. She had plenty of enjoyment of her own and knew her bitter companion would revive himself once they were in the wilds.

And as they left the city, truly the knight did brighten up. The orcish envoys promised to gift wargs as mounts for their great service. Fierce large wolves with ragged dark furs, mouths large enough to chew the elf heads off. But both had refused. Rillithien had said she could find creatures in the wild that she would tame herself and Vilien agreed that him being mounted would do no good with the huntress on foot. In truth he could not bear the thought of such a creature. After the regal mounts of Quel’Thalas, the hawkstriders they had been granted, Vilien would never ride such a tattered beast. He would have brought the birds with them, however the hawkstrider master had refused. The creatures were not ready for such journeys. They would need far trustier mounts, older, sturdier and ready for the different climates, lest they die.

They continued their journey to Ratchet. It was the next city they expected to cross. A goblin port filled with merchants and goods, would be the perfect place to resupply and prepare to go further into Kalimdor. The endless planes and stones of Durotar made for a harsh walk. It was hot and a shade was hard to be found for the much needed breaks. The nights were cold, surprisingly cold for the heat of the days. Their food was faring a lot better however. There was plenty of game that Rillithien was happy to hunt and they ate the stringy meat of lizards for the most part.

The sights of Durotar grew on Vilien in time. At the beginning of their arrival all he would see were stones, yet he began to see the grand mountainous peaks up north the deep ridges and ravines south, the odd plants and odder creatures. The elves were following the road leading to Barrens first, leading directly west. Water had been a more serious issue and they soon ran out of the few flasks they had. The heat was ever restless and unforgiving and they began to drink the stout which the orcs had provided. It was made of some for Vilien unknown materials and fared a lot better in the Durotar heat than their wine.

"We will have to abandon the road" the huntress had sighed unexpectedly breaking the silent walk they had had for the most part of the day. "I’m sure we can find a stream or some source of water, these animals had to drink from somewhere."

"Well, uhh… huh?" hiccuped Vilien. His eyes had been unfocused and it seemed he was not quite certain who spoke to him.

"You useless moron," she sighed in disbelief. After their liquid stores had run lower they had started drinking both stout and water to conserve both, but even that did not save Vilien from becoming incredibly drunk.

A screecher was lurking in the distance. A large lizard walking on two legs stalking in between the stones. Its scales pinkish red, its head at the level of an elfs hip and, its teeth sharp enough to bite through a leg if it decided to attack them. This however was no danger to the huntress. Some they had avoided and some she had killed to provide them dinner. but this one would provide them water.


	3. The Journal of the Greatest Game. Pt. 1 Starting with the little critters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rillithien goes on her first hunt on Kalimdor to save her and Viliens life

The land was mostly flat, but plenty of large rocks and small hills were scattered here and there. The huntress kept a fair distance; the lizard seemed to not notice her prowling behind. Vilien had decided to taste the dirt as he fell face first to the ground after his foot had met a rock.The lizard lurched forward, coming in and out of Rillithien’s vision. She followed it intently, losing sight of Villien, who was now sound asleep. The searing heat cut through the huntress’s body. Unbearable, burning, sweat running down her cheeks. It was a dull and eventless walk that took more than two hours.

But then the lizard came upon a scorpid, bigger than a dog, tearing some small rodent to shreds with its bone claws. The creature was covered in yellow plates, a frightening armor that could block most blades, teeth or claws, however the raptor came at it unnoticed. With its leg it stepped on the scorpid's tail and sank his army of teeth into the scorpions side. The raptor could not pierce the insects carapace, so instead it lifted the scorpid in the air with its immense strength, flailing it left and right. While the lizard attempted to crush the scorpid, the insect’s tail, which had slipped from under the raptor’s leg, pierced it with its stinger, but not long after the scorpid’s shell gave a satisfying crunch, killing it almost instantly. The large lizard had won the fight, but not without a price. As it enjoyed the meal, ripping the shell apart like Rillithien would a tiny nut, it began to sway and show signs of drowsiness. 

"Oh not now you dumb creature, I've wasted too much time on you,” Rillithien mumbled with irritation and fear in her voice.

She worried that the raptor would die before getting her to water, yet the lizard continued moving further southwest. After a few minutes it was lying on the ground, white foam leaking from its mouth. The tracking however did not fail. Further down the way, a small stream of water could be seen. Clean, beautiful water flowed downward a small, stream-carved path not wider than her arm. 

Rillithien had concluded that the trek without the mounts was a horrible mistake. No one had warned them of the habitat and this was the first time she had been in a place where no water was reachable within an hour’s effort. Even leaves, plants, fruit or a tree could provide something to drink if needed, but here there were nothing but rocks and sand and the occasional cactus, which they were warned not to drink from. Rillithien gathered as much water as she could carry, drank a full flasks worth and filled two with so much water that they would burst at the next drop. She drank as much as she dared from a third, larger crocolisk skin flask that held whole 3 liters filled with stout, given by the orcs, then emptied the rest to fill it with water instead. Rillithien woke her spider as well, who she shared a bit of the previously gathered scorpion meat with and let it enjoy the water. During their journey the spider had remained in a pack strapped to her lower back where it slept peacefully to avoid the horrible heat and dryness of the Durotar deserts. 

The walk back was far easier and the huntress, now hydrated, kept a brisk, though slightly wobbly, pace. In less than an hour she found Vilien, still on the ground. Rillithien pushed him on his back and splashed a bit of water on his face. The knight woke, confused and alarmed. Grasping his head with both hands he peered at the bright sky and groaned in disgust. The huntress tossed a flask at him that he failed to catch, which instead just slapped him in the face and fell to the ground.

"I'm going to retch," Vilien mumbled in a raspy voice as he cleaned his tongue from sand. Then he walked to a large stone and retched. Rillithien walked up to the tortured soul and passed him the flask, now mildly gentler. 

"We are near Southfury now, I found a stream. It should lead us to the river and to the other side, the Barrens."

"More barren wastelands, great. I'm so excited about the prospect of dying like this." Vilien drank from the flask, swallowing as quick as he could to make way for more of the precious water. Rillithien showed her displeasure for his attitude with a glare that could kill lesser men.

"If you ask nicely enough, you may end up dying in your sleep before the river."

"Fine," Vilien sighed, "thanks for the water."

The huntress took back the flask and began walking the way she had come from with the water. Vilien reluctantly followed, still groggy and tired from his little nap. The heat continued to press on and Rillithien despised it. It had gone from exotic and exciting to ‘I’m going to find a way to freeze the sun’ in the last few hours.

As they walked forward, the rocky plains became more flat and the odd large rocks - less common. To the south the grand ravines and mountains could be seen. The day was growing dark and the sun was already setting when they came upon the stream again. The air became cool yet there was no breeze, which forbade them to enjoy any solace from their own overheated bodies. The stream however was there to help them with that, and each in turn washed the dust, sand and heat of the day from their bodies with the pleasant water. Clean and relaxed, the travelers began setting up camp, where now a few trees could be seen at the horizon.


	4. Makkura Enmer’s Encyclopedia on the fantastic minerals of the earth. Pt. 1 Stealing amethysts from murlocs is bad for the joints.

"You’re a jewel thief!" a panicked voice came from behind the running priest.

"Don’t you think this is a bad time!" Makkura yelled back sprinting as quickly as her now torn robe let her.

A heavy bag hung on the right side of her waist, hitting heavily against her leg from the quick pace.

The cave was horribly dark and what little light there was came from the torch the priest had in her left hand. Right after noticing a twist in the cave both runaways turned to the right. A group of murlocs were rushing after them, spears in hands, throwing the odd murloc gibberish at them like curses that would stop the thieves.

The cave had started crumbling, rocks falling from the ceiling and fissures clawing their way through the sides of the cave. “Most likely the last gem I grabbed was a magical one, holding this cave in the pristine and odd way it must have been for centuries,” thought the jewel thief.

Makkura would have felt sorry for the precious cave if it hadn’t been for the murlocs who infested it. Many valuable minerals were left behind. Her thoughts however were interrupted as a spear whistled right past her ear. In quick response she did a violent swinging motion with her staff in hand and a burst of light flew from the tip of her staff’s gem hitting the suspected thrower in the arm, knocking him back into other murlocs and rendering some unconscious from the impact.

"You’re a thief, not a geologist!" her assistant screamed again. His job description had been polishing and filing and poking around for some rubies that he had expected to find in the cave. Not murlocs, not stealing and certainly not life threatening adventures. No, adventures were the least of Saton’s interests.

Makkura looked back at her assistant and quickly murmured an incantation right before a spear had rammed in the assistant’s back, a slight coating of light appearing around his back and the spear hitting the light bounced off and fell to the ground.

"This really is not the time for accusations." The priest replied sounding mildly offended, panting in between every second word.

The cave shook heavily, almost throwing Makkura off her balance as larger rocks rolled of the sides of the large cave. With quick and nimble motions she altered her course in order to not get squashed. After a couple of evaded rocks more light could be seen coming from the end of the cave just as more rocks were coming down from above.

"Keep running, we’re almost out!"

"We’ve made - " the assistant’s cry of joy was interrupted as a sharp boulder fell right into his shoulder, pinning him into the ground.

Standing almost at the exit, Makkura looked back to see her companion on the ground a good distance from her, bleeding out. After moment of hesitation, she sprinted to his side.

"Saton, are you there?"she mumbled worriedly while getting a hold of the stalactite that was pinning her assistant.

"Help.. me," he mumbled weakly before he started to scream at the top of his lungs as Makkura pulled the stone out, threw it to the side and put her hand to his shoulder. Another incantation and her hand started glowing with a yellow light that enveloped the wound. Saton whimpered in pain.

"Alright, we’ve got to move!” Makkura did her best to encourage her assistant.

The rocks had covered the deeper part of the cave, cutting the murlocs off, but sand and rocks kept falling as the structure continued to fall apart.

Makkura boosted her assistant with her shoulder, holding him around the waist and pulling him up. Slowly, they ran to the exit, and as the debris was closing the cave Makkura threw Saton out of the cave and leaped after him within the last moment.

The priest got up, took a sip of water and after retrieving her breath got to Saton’s side and turned him on his back. He had passed out from the pain and exhaustion. Makkura checked his neck for a pulse, which was weak, but still present. The shoulder wound had more or less closed, however it was still raw, dirty and bloodied, and at this rate he would die either way

They found themselves at a lush oasis filled with palm trees surrounding a large lake. Makkura dragged Saton to it and began washing his shoulder. He regained consciousness just to scream again, but the priest immediately slapped him across the face.

"Don’t attract attention if you want to try to live, keep it together and keep it quiet! We’re not out of this yet," she explained sternly. "This is going to hurt a lot, but I have to clean the wound and try to heal it a bit more so we can get out of here.” She grabbed a tough branch and held it to Saton’s mouth. With a fearful gaze he bit the piece of wood. Makkura grabbed some clean cloth from her backpack and began cleaning the wound. The pain must have been unbearable, she judged by the tears and whimpering, but Saton kept his voice down to the best of his ability. Once the wound was clean Makkura started gathering up the healing energies into her hands, however unlike at the cave where the priest had healed him immediately, she channeled the light in her palms, swirling it back and forth until it had evened out and become so dense that her palms couldn’t be seen.

“Now, this is going to be the worst part so hold onto something and keep it together,” Makkura said as she placed her hands on the wound. The light passed from her palms to Saton’s shoulder and brightened up even more. His eyes filled up and burst with tears again and he used his undamaged hand to punch the ground. Makkura ignored his suffering and pressed on the wound tightly. After about ten excruciating seconds she removed her hands. Now the horrible gash that had went through his shoulder had been mostly healed, except for a red and burnt-looking scar. After a couple of minutes she rubbed a lotion on the shoulder and covered it with bandages.

“This is the most I can do for the time being, it will need to heal naturally for a bit and I’ve done everything to encourage healing. A couple of days and you should be good as new, or, well, okay, something like that. I can’t entirely fix a hole in your chest you know,” She ranted, forgetting that Saton was hardly in any state of mind to really listen.

“Can I -”

“Rest? No,” Makkura denied Saton’s hope for a moment of peace. “We’re not out of the woods yet… literally,” she giggled, “we have to get out of the oasis, preferably make it to Crossroads. But if you won’t be able to manage that, at least get out of the oasis, centaur like these parts and that would be a sad way to go after what we’ve been through, don’t you think?” The priest didn’t bother waiting for a response and got her assistant up by holding him by the waist and taking his healthy arm around her shoulders.

***

“ And that’s how we escaped the cave!” Makkura said cheerfully to the people that had gathered around her. Vilien had remained in a corner, staring off into the distance, drinking stout in an awfully slow pace and making dramatic expressions.

“And this is the fantastic reward of the endeavour.” She boastfully displayed a set of small red and purple stones that were slightly dirty, but still glimmering. Within the bunch was the brilliant amethyst that she had worked on previously while conversing with the blood elves.

“What happened to your assistant?” an entertained orc with a large cup of stout asked, sounding concerned.

“Oh, he promised he’d have me expelled from the guild of,” Makkura paused a moment peering at the ceiling, “explorers or something? Now, anyway, I’m looking for a lovely brave fellow to replace my previous assistant to venture to the Blackfathom deeps, where even greater treasure awaits, treasure I’d be willing to share.” Finally, the priest had driven her grand story to the point. She was not boasting, but in fact recruiting.

“So, who is up for some adventuring?” She asked in an oddly cheerful tone. The people that had been listening to her story now shuffled uncomfortably. “It seems there are no aspiring adventurers or greedy fools here,” Makkura thought, disappointed.

“Anyone? Gold and glory and stories for your grandchildren to enthuse about?” she asked one last time, most of her hopes already lost.

“Fine then, how about some free beer then?” she called out to the crowd.

That however was arranged, and a couple of the entertained folk gave a bunch of coins to the innkeep and got her a large cup of the only beverage served here.”Orcish godamn stout” Makkura sighed to herself,” who’d think I’d miss Jonas’ mystery booze.” Makkura thanked her benefactors and with the cup in hand walked away from the counter back to the distant corner table where Vilien brooded.

“So,” Makkura bent down looking at the elf’s drunken face with a gleeful smile, “how about an adventure, silly knight?”


	5. The Legend of The Skittering Sands Pt. 1 A Celebration of ill omens.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distant time ago, before the eastern kingdoms knew kalimdor, the people of the far continent had their own lives and troubles.

Most of the tribe had gathered at the chieftain’s large hall. The ceiling made of wood was barely high enough for some of the larger tauren’s horns and the walls were adorned in leathers, cloth blankets and occasional trophy bones. The hall smelled of the sweet berry drink and well cooked meat that was served at the two large tables each having place for more than thirty.  
“Cheers!” the gathered guests exclaimed cheerfully. All took sips from ornate small jugs made of wood.  
“May your days be lucky beyond measure, Asa and Seka!” the elder of the village, sitting at the far end of the desk, gleefully added. Asa sitting at the right side of the desk blushed and gave her hand to Seka who sat next her. Seka smiled and put his hand on her swollen stomach.  
“Have you picked a name for the child?” sitting across the table called Tural.  
Both proud parents smiled with embarrassment.  
“Not yet, friend. But soon enough the name will come to us. There’s still time.”  
“A week is hardly enough time if you ask me, but I won’t question you now, Seka!” Tural jokingly retorted.  
A couple of people laughed and continued to enjoy their meals and drink. The atmosphere of the celebration was warm and friendly, as it was the feast of devotion. An old rite for a couple soon to become parents to enjoy their last bountiful feast, for the rest of their lives they’d devote all their best food to their child.  
Some of the tauren sitting close to the elder however did not share the festive moods and muttered amongst themselves.  
Seka’s ears were keen enough and without a doubt the old geezers could not enjoy his day without talking about the centaur danger. He wanted to interrupt them with a sharp and witty retort, but instead he said what he said instead.  
“Now if you are keen to kill us all with your worry at this feast you might just charge the centaur right now.”  
Oh all my fathers, why was I not blessed with a smarter tongue, he thought.  
“You forget your place, Seka.” Omgra struck back angrily. “While you celebrate your child the rest of us fear extinction! This is not the time for idle celebrat-  
“Quiet, Omgra.” Chief Senda calmly ordered. “I’m certain Seka will apologize for his offense to you.” As the angry elder shifted in his chair and grumbled disapprovingly Senda paused for a bit and turned to the elder.  
“And you will apologize to Seka and Asa for disturbing this holy rite of happiness with your talk of battle and blood at the table.”  
Without a further word Omgra got out of his chair and scurried off the chieftains hall and a couple of the other Tauren followed him. A moment of awkward and frightened silence dawned over the candle-lit hall, some of the tauren muttered amongst themselves and the timid aura of growing fear lasted for whole minute.  
“If the old geezers love the centaur so much, why don’t they take our spears and go to battle themselves,” laughed Adrag, the captain of the Thornclaw’s warriors.  
And to that the hall laughed and drank again.

***

You know, I don't mean to be the person who ruins the moment, but I really think we should be thinking about the larger problem here, " with an apologetic tone said Asa, when they had returned to their own hut. "I'm pretty sure they need you."  
"How much of a difference one person makes? I don't want to miss the birth of our child just to fight the centaur!" Seka replied defensively.  
Both stayed silent for a moment rethinking what each other had said through the day. This wasn't the first time she had brought the topic up. Asa was not ready to abandon her life as a warrior and to become a mother must have irritated her more than anything in her entire life. The clan was in danger while she was stuck in the village. Seka on the other hand was anticipating fatherhood anxiously. There was nothing he wanted more than to be a father and a husband to a family. A family which had a home and a clan, not the life of some refugees hiding from the elements under trees and in caves.  
"Alright, Asa," Seka promised peacefully to hide his fear of the task. "I'll talk to Marag about joining the defense party."  
Asa nodded. The promise comforted her slightly, but not much. She wanted to be there herself, trusty warhammer in hand, crushing the damned centaur skulls. But she knew she couldn't.  
"I'm quite a bit tired actually. I'm thinking of sleep already." Asa mumbled while yawning.  
"Well don't let me stop you, sweet jungle fiend" Seka gave his wife a kiss, she giggled a bit, got comfortable in her feather bed and fell asleep almost immediately.  
With the quiet snores in the background Seka dug through a wooden chest he kept in their hut filled with a couple of more important belongings. At the very bottom was a long item wrapped in cloth. He took it out and unraveled the cloth finding his old scimitar. A simple curved blade with a green hilt and handle covered with wines. Seka did not miss the blade.


	6. Journal of the Greatest Game. Pt. 2 The Barrens is a tiring journey in body and spirit.

The sun was slowly falling behind the mountains of the Barrens and Rillithien was laying leisurely on a kodo, an enormous beast that the tauren used for travelling. It’s skin was thick and dark, four large bulbous legs and on its nose a horn the size of Rillithien’s arm. It was quite difficult to describe since the huntress had never seen anything like it. Galtir was on the front holding onto the kodo with simple rope reins.

Their journey was mostly silent as both did not like to talk a lot. On occasion however Rillithien asked a couple of questions about the nature, the flora and fauna of the surprisingly alive Barrens. The name was quite misleading honestly since the land was teeming with life.

Rillithien shifted suddenly as if waking up, and looked around.  
“You know, I had assumed that the kodo ride would be a whole lot bumpier. Surprisingly enough this probably is the smoothest ride I’ve ever had, I could sleep on this beast,” the huntress said, as she was laying on the kodo’s back.

“Just like the Tauren, kodo are calm and peaceful creatures. It’s quite difficult to anger one,” responded Galtir.

“Huh, I’m starting to see that. There’s a certain unique calm to this place, that I never really experienced in the forests of Quel’thalas. It’s nice.” Rillithien told as she drifted off into the quiet nature again. This was a nicer journey than any she had had in a while, and Galtir’s company was refreshing. He was quiet and peaceful as he had suggested before, but also pleasant company in the moments he spoke. The sights were great as well. There were unusual creatures all over the savannah, the odd bushy cats Galtir referred to as lions, the even weirder dogs that were called hyenas and the horned and striped horses that were named the zhevra. The flora was quite brownish and Rillithien had disliked the bland plants that all just looked like they would wilt. Trees were scarce compared to the forests of Quel’thalas and they looked crooked and silly, but over time she saw life and beauty in the different nature of the Barrens. The huntresses dreamlike state got disrupted as she remembered about the Gem they were delivering to Thunder bluff.

“So what is up with the magical stone of evil?” Rillithien asked, with a slight tinge of curiosity.

“I’m not certain, but it feels tainted. It could have a connection with the emerald dream somehow. I’m sure Runetotem would know,” the tauren guessed.

The answer was good enough for Rillithien and the elf made a confirming hum. As the sun set and it grew darker she decided to rest, with Galtir reassuring her that she could rest easy, while he’d find a nice spot for him and the kodo to sleep later. Time was a large issue in her companions opinion so they would sleep in shifts so as to avoid long breaks. It did not take long to fall asleep staring at the clear starry sky.

After a while the huntress heard a noise from somewhere distant. She ignored it at first but hearing her name again made her rise up.

“Wha… where?” she stammered clueless. Rillithien looked around to see that it was still dark and Galtir had called her a couple of times to change shifts.

“Now you are going to ride Tamak. It’s not all that difficult, all you have to do is hold on to the reins and let him lead you. He knows where to go. Wake me at dawn and be nice to him.”

“Wait, I’ve never ridden one before,” the huntress groggily responded.

“You’ll be fine. As I said earlier Tamak will lead you and I’m sure he won’t mind you. You seem to be good with animals.”

The ride was as pleasant with the calm and sights that Rillithien appreciated. She did however yearn for something more exciting. Hunting one of the stormlizards or the flying serpents she’d heard about; the talk about these creatures had overwhelmed her. There were countless things to do, see and try. Perhaps it would be better if the huntress split up with Vilien and continued to travel on her own? Rillithien had suggested to travel with Vilien herself, but now she was having doubts about it. Vilien certainly would not take kindly to her going off on her own. With Vilien however she could not venture through the wilds doing as she pleased. The knight seemed more focused on a specific objective while Rillithien only wanted to experience all the wondrous things the land had to offer. She could perhaps go to Azshara to see where her ancestors lived. Once Azshara was the beautiful capital of the high elves, but countless generations hadn’t returned to the ancient ruin. Only the mad and brave dared to take such a quest, but no one had returned to tell their stories. Whether they remained there or went somewhere else, they certainly didn’t come back home. That didn’t bother Rillithien however, but it would bother Vilien. “Have you lost your mind?” He’d rant and groan, offended and shocked. “Why would you want to visit the reminder of our people’s failings. It would be nothing but painful and blah blah blah, blah blah...”

Rillithien sighed at the idea of that conversation. What she wanted was to see the beauty of their lost homeland, the hippogryphs and chimeras, the yellow leafed trees, the large temples and palace ruins, not search for lost recordings of the war of the ancients. “Vilien was far too fixated on all the pain to live happily. We should disband,” the huntress decided.

By now Rillithien had gotten used to riding the kodo, so that she stopped paying attention to riding entirely. She did however notice that Tamak seemed tired and the huntress decided that it would be better if they took a break. She pulled the rains gently leading them into the savannah and off the road. Seeing a small lake in the distance with a couple of trees Rillithien decided to set up camp there. When they reached it, Rillithien jumped off Tamak and pated his forehead; the kodo brushed it’s head against her hand and nestled near the trees. The huntress sat near the lake and looked around wistfully at the sky which was filled with endlessly glowing stars that reminded her of home. She spent the last hour of the night thinking about sweeter times.

The light of dawn peered behind the mountains and Rillithien went off to the sleeping kodo. Galtir was still sleeping on Tamak’s back. The huntress nudged Galtir’s shoulder and when she did not get a response, Rillithien gave another harder shove. This made the tauren shift away from the huntress and fall off the kodo. The action was not exactly graceful and it forced a chuckle out of the elf. A disgruntled groan came from behind Tamak

“Morning.”

“Morning to you. I set camp since Tamak needed sleep. I could get us some food if you still want to rest,” Rillithien suggested.

Galtir crawled up, got on his feet and stretched.

“I thank you for your offer, but sadly we have to go as soon as we eat the food that we have with us,” the tauren said regretfully as he pulled some roots and vegetables out of one of his many pouches. He gave the huntress an apple and a couple of mysterious vegetables.

“I will make us some earthroot tea, it will help us to not fall asleep or run out of our strength today. When we reach camp Taurajo we can have a good nights sleep, but until then we must endure for one more day,” the tauren explained.

“What about Tamak? He has barely had any rest,” the huntress asked with concern in her voice.

“It is sweet of you to worry, but kodos are very sturdy creatures. I will give him a strengthening broth for today. We both have had a lot more difficult journeys than this,” Galtir spoke, reassuring the huntress while he was throwing roots and vegetables in a pot of water.

“Oh? What journeys?” Rillithien inquired with a childlike curiosity.

“Hmm,” the tauren grunted. “Back when Runetotem had not made the teleportation link and wyverns did not go to moonglade, me and Tamak had to go north through Ashenvale and Felwood. Back then Felwood was even worse, but our relationship with the night elves was better. Now they don’t like us as much.”

“What happened?”

“The Orcs happened. That forest logging camp near Azshara. There were a lot of problems with orcish aggression in the elven forest. It was made in the third war and the night elves wanted it destroyed. Sadly an agreement was never reached. The orcish leader Thrall always had problems with such politics. The matter must have been out of his hands,” with a pained expression explained Galtir.

“The third war left many things ruined and defiled,” quietly added Rillithien.

The tauren looked at the elf with slight alarm “I apologise. Makkura spoke about the war in the east. I spoke thoughtlessly.”

“The forsaken gemcrafter? And it’s quite alright,” she timidly replied.

“Mhmm, she informed me of the devastation of the eastern kingdoms. That must have been horrible,” Galtir said solemnly.

Rillithien averted her gaze hesitating for a moment

“I wasn’t there,” she looked off into the morning sky, unable to say anything else.

“Someone else was however?” the tauren asked, with a calm tone.

The huntress noded meekly, stood up and took a drink from her flask.

Galtir handed a bowl of the soup he had prepared. “Here, it will make you feel a bit better.”

She nodded and took the bowl. In a few minutes they were done with breakfast and prepared to continue onward. The ride was quieter than usual and the huntress did not manage to enjoy the sights with the excitement the elf had had before. Instead she was dozing off, remembering something she would rather not.

***

“Hi, mom! You are back early.”

“Hello my little huntress, we have to get out of the city, we are leaving right now.”

“But what about dad? Will he know where we are?”

“I hope he will, Rilla, I hope he will.”


	7. Poems of Tainted Blood. Pt. 2 If people annoy you, go on a deadly quest with them and hope they die.

“So how about that adventure idea!” Makkura exclaimed positively as she sat at Vilien’s table carrying her ale.

“Adventure? My mind is not hellbent on adventure. I think i’ll just go back to Orgrimmar and wait there. I’ve had enough adventure for a while,” Vilien replied apathetically.

“Aww, that is not the attitude of a successful rich swordsman!” The priest retorted with almost pungent excitement.

Vilien groaned, irritation leaking out of him. “What are you suggesting?”

“I am glad you asked!” Makkura said, unexpectedly shifting her attitude and tone to a more serious one. “My last couple of gemhunts have been a bust. I’ve heard rumors of a location that is certain to yield plenty of gems and shinies.”

“No doubt it’s deadly dangerous?” Vilien asked brightening up.

Makkura caught on the slight change in the knight’s face and threw in her lure.

“Perhaps. Nothing we could not handle however, I’m sure.”

“Whats in it for me?” the elf asked slyly.

“Wealth, experience, glory and something you seem to need more than the rest - a break from your sorrows,” the priest replied calmly while pointing at Vilien’s face. The direct statement made the knight quite uncomfortable.

“Alright, smartass. Inform me of this spectacular plan of yours,” he replied sourly.

“From what I’ve gathered,” Makkura started explaining as she placed a map on the table, “we’re currently here, referred to as The Barrens. Up north around here,” she pointed at the western coastline of the continent past an enormous forest, “is an old ruin, that night elves call Blackfathom deeps.”

“Oh that sounds like a great idea,” Vilien interrupted in a sarcastic tone.

Makkura looked at his face and shushed him before getting back to the map and continuing. “With the right guide this could be a month job. Two weeks there, two weeks back. In a zippy, basically.”

“A month? There’s no way I can be away for that long.” the knight insisted. “Rillithien said she’d be back in Orgrimmar by then!”

“I hardly see the problem here. Knowing Galtir, they will be late and I think your companion will be fine in the orcish capital on her own for a week even if they show up early.” Makkura did her best trying to talk him out of not helping her and rotting away here.

“I don’t really know if this is a good idea...” Vilien mumbled attempting to evade the decision.

“So what, you’ll just sit here for a couple of weeks or rot in Orgrimmar? This will be good for you, trust me.”

The knight shifted about in his chair and rubbed his temples with his hands. After taking another drink he made a decision.

“Fine, I’ll go, but I better not end up like that previous travel buddy of yours.”

Makkura shrugged at him “I can’t really promise anything here.”

“Hmph, how are we going to get through that forest and across the entire continent?” Vilien asked.

“Well I’d hire some mounts, but we won’t really be able to use the roads so it’s walking for us. Besides that we’ve got to get to Splintertree post, hire a guide and work our own from there.”

Vilien was not fully reassured of the plan. “What about the night elves, it’s their forest isn’t it?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t concern myself with that. Last I was there they really didn’t have a whole lot presence in the forest anymore. I think it should all go without a hitch,” Makkura said carelessly.

“Your consistent uncertainty is not something I feel too good about.” Vilien commented cynically.

Makura shrugged dismissively while putting her map away. “Alright, pack your goods and tools. We’re heading out in an hour.”

“An hour!?” the knight asked surprised and alarmed.

“Do you have some sort of a hearing issue? Because I should probably know about that.” Makkura asked in a serious tone.

Vilien scoffed at the rude priest, “Fine, an hour then.”

***

In about fifty minutes Vilien was waiting at the northern exit of the busy town, doing his very best to avoid eye contact with one of the guards. Makkura arrived right on time carrying a large backpack that looked notably heavy. While she didn’t seem particularly bothered, it was hard to read her face with those large goggles.

“Hello, grumps,” the priest called out to Vilien.

The knight barely held back the insistent urge to pout as the town guard chuckled behind Vilien. The priest got a bit closer and continued talking: ”We’ve got a long way ahead. We’ll make camp on the northern border of The Barrens and then only at Splintertree post.”

Without saying anything else both began walking north. With flasks on her belt and the oversized backpack Makkura appeared very well prepared. Vilien was almost compelled to offer help.

In a little while the knight broke the silence, “So how long have you been in Kalimdor?”

“About a year or so, I’ve never really kept track,” Makkura wistfully responded.

“Do you intend to stay here or will you go back home eventually?”

“Home?” the priest asked in confusion, “I don’t have a home. All of Lordaeron was destroyed. Everyone I knew is dead. All I’m doing is killing time. Whatever I find interesting or profitable.”

Vilien didn’t seem to quite grasp the idea, “Are you trying to buy something? Like a new place to call home?”

“What? Heck no. What’s with you and homes? I just like collecting gems and ores and such so that’s what I’m doing.”

“I don’t really get any of that,” Vilien shook his head in disapproval. The priest, slightly annoyed, gave a sideways glance at the elf.

“Well what’s your big reason for traveling to the other side of the world then?”

The knight got slightly dazed from the question and fumbled for words, “I just had to get away from some problems.”

Vilien decided to drop the conversation and focused on walking and so they walked in silence for hours. Throughout those hours they managed to have two breaks and eat some of the food the two had brought while walking. They now passed plenty of trees that were not as common down south and saw a couple of animals here and there, mainly the zhevra that roamed the higher Barrens. The land was becoming greener and more lush. In the far distance Vilien could see tall figures covered in mists. He realized that they were trees each as tall as the great Sunspire if not taller.

“What is with those trees?” Vilien asked with amazement in his voice, “They are impossibly high!”

“Oh those, right It’s easy getting used to Ashenvale. Everything is sort of oversized in Kalimdor,” Makkura explained with a bored tone. “The caves, the spiders, the trees.”

“Spiders!?” Vilien loudly exclaimed.

“Mhmm, spiders are a thing here. Especially in Ashenvale. A whole lot of spiders.”

The knight was ready to turn back. There were some things he was ready to deal with, but spiders sure as hell were not one of them.

Makkura gave him a sly look. “Not fond of spiders are you?” She teased. “Well alright, I might consider not looking for the silk. I don’t think we will have trouble with spiders if we don’t look for them.”

Distressed, Vilien looked at her, realizing what he had signed up for, “Makes it sound like you look for trouble and danger,” he commented timidly.

“Well “look” isn’t the word I’d use, but I guess my lifestyle has it’s dangers.”

The knight shuddered a bit and some of his armor clanked together. He tried to get the eight legged, freaky, monstrous demonspawn out of his head. While Vilien was trying to not imagine giant spiders he noticed Makkura twitch out of the corner of his eye.

“WATCH OUT!” The priest suddenly yelled.

Vilien spun to his right seeing an arrow that came right at his chest. Before he could comprehend the incoming projectile it bounced right off of him, falling to the ground.

“Charge them! NOW!” Makkura ordered.

The knight looked from where to arrow came, finding two orcs to the east. From their shaggy clothes Vilien assumed them to be bandits. The bowman was drawing another arrow as Vilien began sprinting as fast as his armor would let him. The second bandit was armed with a mace and stumbled, surprised by the charging, tall elf, but got in front of the archer. Another arrow was loosed. It was precise and fast as it went for the knights shoulderline. Instead of embedding into Vilien’s heart the arrow ricocheted off of him. It was all Makkura’s doing, the elf realized as he was upon the bandits, smirking slightly.

Vilien thrust his sword at the first orc. The orc swiped his mace attempting to parry, but the sword cut through the shirt and burst through the defenders chest poking out of his back near the archers face. With a swift motion he pulled the sword back as the bandit fell lifelessly in the grass. Before the knight was ready the archer had unsheathed a knife and lunged at him when a burst of light slammed the archer’s chest launching him backwards. Vilien looked back, seeing Makkura breathing heavily with her staff drawn. The bandit grasped at his shoulder which was now scorched and burnt together with his shirt. He got up and fled.

Makkura walked up to Vilien and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You alright? It would be a shame if you caught an arrow before we got to the hard part.” the priest said laughing.

Vilien looked down, checking for arrows.

“That was a brilliant shield, I think it lasted for more than thirty seconds. I’d be severely wounded or dead without you.”

Makkura smirked a bit at the compliment and looked at the orc in the grass. “Heh, well might as well loot the dead one.”

The priest rifled through the still bleeding bandit’s pockets and sleeves. She found a couple of copper coins and the large metal mace, which was very well crafted for a bandit.

“A pretty good looking mace,” she noted. “Do you think those were bandits at all?”

Vilien looked at the corpse and wondered at that while brushing his chin with his right hand. “I can’t say that I’d know. This looks pretty plain to me. It’s just iron really,” he said dismissively.

“Well, maybe I’m worrying over nothing,” Makkura said with slight concern in her face.

While Vilien decided not to poke the topic, he did think to himself, what else could these brigands be?

The priest looked around the sky and turned back to the road.

“Well, we don’t have all day,” she said sighing and started walking back north. Vilien followed.


	8. Shining Journal of an aspiring commander. Pt. 1  Difficult sea journeys are a lot less difficult with food and purpose in sight.

A loud groan come from behind the captain.

“I hate to ask again, but when are we going to get there?”

The captain took his hands off the large wheel and turned around to see none other than his irritated employer. A Tall woman with simple and practical clothes. She was bigger and certainly stronger than himself and judging from the coin and armor she had worn previously, there was a good chance that she was quite a high ranking military officer. The fact that she demanded to only be referred to as “the commander” on their first meeting supported that thought.

“Hello, commander. I expect us to reach the shore in about a week if the wind finally picks up,” the captain responded anxiously.

“If I recall correctly last time I asked you said the same thing,” the commander snapped back. She felt as if she could rip this bastards throat sometimes, but all in all the sea wasn’t exactly her area of expertise. It was better to leave the paid captain as is. She turned and strode across the bright brownish deck looking around at the scrawny crew she’d hired. They seemed so out of place on the beautiful elven vessel. The blood knights had enough political traction to provide a retired military vessel, but not a ship crew. “Then again sea was not really our speciality,” she thought and nodded to herself. She went to the red and gold painted and embroidered cabin leading into the ship’s interior and wandered down the stairs to the storage room. A whole lot of boxes filled with disappointment. She grabbed some lynx meat jerkies and a bottle of honey and stuffed them in her pouch. Meat and honey - the only food that would last as long without spoiling. The rest of the food had already been eaten for about two weeks back so this was starting to grind commander’s nerves. She went up a level, just below the deck. 

The best room in the whole ship was hers, the captain’s room. The captain got one of the other private cabins and she was sure it was the most comfort the ragged sea dog had ever had. She reached the door and knocked on it twice, then after a couple of seconds entered. It was not as big a room as she’d have preferred but it fit two beds and two dressers as well a view to the outside through the window. There was not a whole lot to see however. Sea and sky, that’s it, for two whole cursed weeks. To the right was her bed, covered in satin sheets and a light blanket all in red of course. To her left was the other bed which was occupied by a shady fellow that the blood knights had sent with her on this mission. The likely assassin was called Bloody Springpaw, but the commander had taken a habit of calling them Spring instead. At the rare times when Spring talked and the commander tried to make some form of opinion or judgement, all she could gather was that the fellow didn’t like to talk and was too calm for their own damn good. Either way Spring was currently not in the room so they were probably staring off at the sky, looking all gloomy and dramatic as far as she could guess. Stopping at that thought the commander chewed down one of the jerkies, placed the honey jar on the small table in the middle of the room and fell into the bed. The boredom was deadly and the only cure was a whole lot of sleeping or picking fights with crewmembers. Sleeping was currently preferable.

***

The commander woke up from the sound of the creaking wooden door. Spring quietly walked in the room, grabbed the bottle of honey and nodded a thanks at the groggy roommate. They sat on the bed, pulled out a spoon and started eating the honey. Spring was wearing cowering yet light clothes, that looked clean, but worn, and most frightening of all they were all black and gray. Their face was covered by a scarf and a mask underneath and more of the black cloth covered the top of her head. No distinctive feature could be seen besides the body itself, which was lighter and shorter than the commander’s, but formidable enough.

“Do you ever think that wearing all black on a ship in this heat is a little bit excessive?” Commander asked. Spring shook their head and stuffed a spoon through the opening of the mask that was for their mouth. The process did not look comfortable, but they must have already gotten used to that long ago. Boredom creeped up on the commander again as she stared off at the ocean through the large window. The scene hadn’t changed a whole lot. One of the clouds looked sort of like a dragon. That was the most entertaining thing she had experienced today.

“You know, I think I should get a small book just like yours to write down the names of bastards I want to kill,” said Commander chuckling slightly.”List of money bags for Laures.” Some people considered the Commander Heartvale Laures’ voice a little odd for the way she talked, what she talked about and how she looked. No one really said that to her face however. “Does hunting bounties pay well?”

Spring shrugged.

“What does that mean?” getting slightly annoyed, replied Heartvale.

The cloaked fellow stopped eating honey for a bit and replied in a calm and cold manner: “I don’t hunt bounties.”

“Fine, fine. You know what I mean. “

“I do many things.”

Laures shrugged and sighed. “I hate talking to you.”

Spring seemed to ignore that comment and resumed the honey eating.

The commander rolled her face on the soft pillow. Wondering about her mission. They had to get to shore soon. Hunting down a very specific bastard would get a lot harder the longer she’d be late. Still, considering the fact that buddy never-say-anything-that-isn’t-cryptic would do all the tracking and Laures could work on the crushing herself reassured her.

“There’s nowhere you can hide, Vilien,” she murmured.


	9. The Legend of Skittering Sands. Pt. 2 Don't get hit by the bow arm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey of Galtir and Rillithien continues as the get closer to their goal and reach Camp Taurajo.

Another sun was setting as Galtir, Rillithien and Tamak were approaching the camp Taurajo. The travelers were severely tired and the sight of the camp was met with a sigh of relief.

The settlement was quite small and had a group of tauren tents. A couple of fires could be seen within. It was poorly guarded and had no walls. Its only source of protection were the steep hills on the west and the four watchtowers covering every direction.

Galtir approached a tauren lookout guard a bit off the small village.

“Halt, travelers! What brings you here?” the guard calmly asked in a deep voice.

Galtir nodded as a greeting and got off his kodo.

“I am Galtir, a druid of Thunderbluff, seeking refuge and shelter.” he explained.

“Hail, honorable druid!” the guard bowed. He gave a quick look at the elven huntress, but let them pass anyway.

Galtir gestured the huntress to get off Tamak.

“It is ill mannered to march in a camp on a mount. We want to appear as little trouble as possible if we all want to sleep tonight.” the druid informed. Rillithien nodded and got off the kodo. As they walked closer to the settlement both travelers saw a large bonfire that lit most of the camp. A couple of tauren were gathered outside near the bonfire while others were sitting on benches near some of the tents and huts. Galtir looked around to find a large stable a bit further to the right.

“You may visit the tavern and have a drink.” the druid suggested to the huntress, pointing at another larger hut left of them.

“I’ll do just that,” replied Rillithien as she started walking in the direction to the large tavern hut.

Galtir took Tamak’s reins and walked towards the stable. The stablemaster met the traveler at the entrance.

“You need bedding and food for your kodo, eh, traveler?” the stablekeep asked with a groggy tone, looking like he had just woken up.

“Yes. how much will it be?” Galtir asked.

“Oh, you’re that druid from last year. It will be a silver and fifty for fruit and shelter,” said the owner opening his palm and moving it forward.

Galtir pushed his hand in the pouch on his right side, but as his hand reached in the bag the druid jerked and ripped it out.

“Pricked your hand with some herbs, fella?” the stablemaster chuckled.  
“Mhmm,” the druid hummed and awkwardly nodded. He then quickly grabbed the coins from the correct pouch and gave them to the keeper.

“Take a spot of your choosing,” the stablemaster offered and went inside the large building.

Galtir lead Tamak in the first stable room to the right. There was plenty of space for a kodo to have. Tauren stables were often quite large unlike the orcish pens that were used for wolves. It gladdened the druid since Tamak was not fond of small crowded spaces. The kodo nudged Galtir’s side with what he assumed was concern. In response the druid pat tamak on his forehead and gave him a snack.

The druid walked away from the stable holding on to one of his belt pouches on his right side. He went further off the bonfire into the darkness of the night.

When Galtir had gone far enough to not be seen he pushed his hand in the same pouch and pulled out the large, green, cut stone. The druid had felt something when he’d touched it before. Now however, it seemed dormant and passive. Galtir observed and examined the gem thoroughly looking at it from every angle, certain that he had seen or felt or maybe experienced something. Something alarming and disconcerting. He could not quite understand it.

The druid placed the stone back into its pouch and turned back to the camp. _Perhaps a nice drink and company would clear my mind and settle these worried thoughts, Galtir wondered._

Galtir was nearing the bonfire when he could hear some commotion coming from the tavern. No, it couldn’t be her. _The huntress was a calm fellow_ , he thought to himself rushing to the tavern.

As the druid approached the entrance a large tauren flew head first through the leathery tavern entrance curtain. Inside he caught a glimpse of Rillithien in the middle of the room brushing her palms together. Galtir bolted inside past the dazed victim. As he entered two more drunken tauren stood up. One of them shouted at the huntress.

“Ey, elf girl. You better take the hint and leave before you get yourself hurt!”

The elf looked back at the tavern entrance and waved at the druid.  
“What is happening here,” the druid demanded in a distressed and fearful tone.

Rillithien turned back to the tauren that was now walking in her direction.

“His friend called my mother a whore so I escorted him out.” Rillithien told Galtir as the drunk tauren attempted to grab her shoulders with his large hands. The elf ducked and before the attacker could try again the huntress rammed her right fist in the tauren’s stomach.

Galtir was about to rush to her aid with the certainty that the tiny elf’s punch could not phase a tavern brawler when he noticed the shock in the tauren’s face. As the huntress jumped back from her opponent he grasped at his stomach, bent his back and fell down, whimpering on the floor.

“Who else has a problem with me or any of my family members?” the huntress asked with stone cold calmness.

Everyone in the tavern turned back to their business, chatting, playing cards and drinking as if nothing had happened. Another tauren from the troublemaker’s group carefully walked to his moaning friend.

“We’re sorry for this misunderstanding, I hope the fighting won’t continue,” politely said the tauren helping his whimpering ally get up.

Rillithien shrugged, got her cup of wine, thanked the barkeep and walked to her companion.

“Your strength is surprising,” said Galtir with a bit of amusement.

Rillithien twisted her right arm a bit and then stretched it forward.

“It’s the bow arm. Never get hit by the bow arm,” the huntress replied with subtle amusement as well.

The druid chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The huntress took another sip of wine while Galtir looked around the tavern for property damage. After reassuring himself he spoke up again.

“I’m going to sleep back at the inn. We have the sight room. I advise you to get some sleep as well.”

Rillithien nodded and Galtir walked outside. The flying tauren had managed to get on his feet and was wobbling back to the tavern. _That will probably not end well for him_ Galtir thought.

Before the druid reached the inn he heard a panicked shout and the flying tauren flew through the tavern curtains again as the nickname Galtir had given him suggested. The druid showed a pleasant smile and entered the inn.

He saw the innkeep that he’d met before in his few visits at Taurajo. He was a small and pleasant tauren with clean gray fur and simple linen clothes. He showed the druid to his room and went downstairs. The room could be considered rather small for a tauren, but probably looked just fine for an elf. Two clean beds had been prepared with white sheets and a woolen blanket. A table made of wood was placed next to the bed the druid preferred. A jar with earthroots and another one with bruiseweeds was placed on the table, next to the jars was a wooden mortar and stone pestle. The innkeep didn’t sleep well and gave Galtir a discount, given that he’d make a sleep potion for him.

It didn’t take too long to prepare a fine mix using his own nightblooms and the bruiseweeds the innkeeper had given him. The earthroots must have been a gift since they were not needed in the sleeping potion. He mixed the powder with some water making a dark blue liquid. Galtir then poured a bit for himself and took the rest to the innkeep downstairs.

“Now remember. One small sip and no more,” Galtir warned as he approached the gray tauren behind the counter.

He nodded and thanked for the potion. The druid politely nodded back and walked to his room, drank a sip of the potion and fell in the bed, exhausted.

***

Galtir woke feeling groggy and tired. The nightbloom always made waking up unpleasant. Rillithien was sleeping in the bed on the other side of the room. He was happy she had not gotten into too much trouble. The druid walked out of the room and downstairs the simple wooden panes. With quick and soft steps he paced downstairs and walked across the main hall and opened the door to reveal the morning sky. The sun had risen no more than an hour ago. The camp was quiet and the bonfire had died down. Galtir walked away from the main circle of the camp and looked west. In the far horizon across planes of savanna trees he could make out the entrance in the valley. A steady wide drop downwards where the sky met the large decline. The sky was blue and the air fresh, Mulgore in sight. The druid was coming home.


	10. Makkura Enmers Encyclopedia of the fantastic minerals of the earth. Pt. 2 If you get lost, blame the trees.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey through Ashenvale begins. While the journey is not without it's difficulties, Makkura has something up her sleeve, that is bound to surprise the blood elven knight.

“I blame the trees,” Makkura said pointing at a specific tree ahead.

“The trees…?” Vilien asked with curiosity, indulging her.

“Without a doubt these things just keep growing taller and branchier and leafier. Nothing looks the way I’m used to!” the priest ranted.

“Used to? How long have you been here?” Vilien wondered.

“Again, I really can’t say I’ve kept track. Six months tops.”

“So you’ve spent most of your time in the continent here? How? Why?” Vilien asked with shock in his face, thinking how a forsaken would manage to spend so much time in the night elf forest.

Makkura’s pupils moved a bit to the left as she recounted the events she’d had in the forest.

“Hmm, I just like it here?” she responded in a questioning tone as she looked at her surroundings. Makkura led them north as per her usual route, taking a slight sideroad to the east to avoid alliance patrols. The road vanished in the grass and brushes this time, but never showed back up as it had before. Before the priest knew it, she had no idea where was forward or where to turn back.

“The road might be overgrown and we could still be on track. Trying to fix this might just make it worse. If we trust our gut and keep going, there’s a good chance we will find the road.” Makkura calmly mused.

Vilien nodded in agreement. Whether he was too concerned to object or started to trust Makkura more, she was unsure of, but either way it made for an easier journey. Morale loss was fairly common in her expeditions, but the knight was surprisingly seasoned for his look. The priest thought the fellow would be a handful, but Vilien had adjusted quickly, leaving his plate armor behind and getting better equipment for the forest and helping with carrying important survival items. Now he looked less an ill fitting knight and more a seasoned traveler.

A subtle sound of a breaking branch interrupted Makkura’s thoughts. She looked back past Vilien who was following her, but saw nothing but the various trees, shrubs and other flora. Vilien raised an eyebrow, giving her a confused look. The priest ignored it, turned her head forward and kept walking. In about a minute she slowed her pace and let Vilien catch up to her.

“We’re being followed, don’t look back,” she whispered, still looking forward.

“Followed? By who? The night elves?” Vilien asked as quietly as he could, resisting the urge to look back.

Makkura nodded and subtly pointed in a direction while getting a hold of her staff. They reached an open clearing. This was the perfect spot for a fight, the priest thought.

Vilien twisted around and drew his sword and Makkura shot a burst of light through her staff in the direction she suspected her target to be. As the light flew by the knight, it illuminated nothing but the damnable trees.

The knight rushed forward, weapon at the ready. After a moment Makkura jolted and called out to him.

”Stop! It’s a trap!”

As Vilien was turning to Makkura he noticed a tall dark figure right next to him leaning on a tree. It struck at his face, but the knight ducked and swung his sword sideways from below. The attacker jumped over the slash lazily as the sword rammed into the large tree. The towering figure punched again, meeting its mark precisely this time.

Vilien braced for the blow but instead the attacker’s fist gently bopped him on the cheek. Confused, the knight jumped back ready to swing again when Makkura placed her hand on Vilien’s shoulder, holding him back.

Makkura looked at the tall night elf, who towered over Vilien, and began speaking.

“Hello, Old Man, fancy seeing you here.”

“Mhmm, what a coincidence indeed. What is this goofy fellow and where is my favourite bull.” the night elf asked in the most sarcastic tone.

“This here is Vilien, a companion of mine.” Makkura said pointing at the blood elf, “Galtir is away on druid business.”

“Moonglade?” The old elf asked leaning on a tree and crossing his arms.

“Thunderbluff. So, nowhere near close for a chat with you,” the priest responded and laughed.

“A shame,” the night elf sighed.

As the two were enjoying the conversation Vilien just stood there, staring at the nearby shrubbery and notably uncomfortable.

Makkura, catching on the knights awkwardness, turned to him.

“This is our guide, by the way. I’d expected to meet him farther east, but as you can see he was bored enough to find us himself.”

Vilien nodded to Makkura, but appeared a fair bit confused nonetheless.

“A guide you say?” the old man asked in a formal tone, “I have not received the proper paperwork. It will cost you double.”

Makkura mulled over the idea, rubbing her chin with her right hand.

“Fine, fine. Double it is.” She said and turned to the knight again, “We should set up camp.”

Vilien nodded again, took Makkura’s bag and began unpacking.

“Who are we robbing this time?” the night elf asked looking upwards as if he was wondering of some ancient event.

“If we’re not dealing with the factions it’s not illegal. So technically we haven’t robbed anyone, “ Makkura corrected the guide. “But yes, we are going for a big one. The Blackfathom deeps.”

The Old Man started laughing and held on to his stomach with both hands as if he was about to have his guts fall out from how funny that idea was. For thirty long, abhorrent, uncomfortable seconds he continued laughing until his amusement died down. 

“That is the most horrible idea I’ve heard from you yet. I have no use of my favourite client dead. The deeps are not a tourist attraction.” he explained with a sly grin to Makkura looking her right in the eyes, “I hear some funny cultist people have taken residence and the naga presence is undeniable.”

The priest met his gaze with unrelenting determination. Realizing that he’d not meet weakness there, the Old Man turned to the knight.

“And your enforcer isn’t very good,” he pointed at the blood elf, “The deeps are a lot more dangerous than one sneaky night elf pathfinder. The terrors that lurk beneath will devour him.”

Vilien scoffed and continued preparing the campfire.

Makkura paced for a bit and sat down near the now finished campfire. Aiming her hand at the bundled bunch of sticks she shot a burst of light from her fingertips, starting a small fire. The Old Man went past Vilien and sat near the fire, facing the priest. After composing her thoughts Makkura spoke up again.

“You know, I’m not trying to siege the place. It’s a stealth mission. Quickly in, quickly out,” she talked gesturing with her hands rather creatively, putting a little show of her and Vilien sneaking with her fingers.

The night elf smiled a little before retorting.

“What do you suppose you’ll find in the depths, besides your deaths, that is.”

“Pearls primarily, I think,” the priest responded while Vilien settled down not too far from her.

After the knight had sat and placed all his camping equipment back into Makkura’s travel bag, he joined the conversation.

“If this friend of yours doesn’t want to help why don’t we just find another guide?” He asked giving a cold look to the smiling old elf.

“Not really possible, Vilien. Orcs don’t venture west into night elf lands without orders and we won’t find another friendly night elf any time soon.”

The night elf kept staring at the priest still keeping up the polite yet eerie smile. Makkura shifted uncomfortably.

“What would it take for you to help us?” pleaded the priest.

The Old Man looked upward and fidgeted with his hands, moving his fingers about as if he was counting.

“If you want me to lead you back to barrens? Nothing,” he said happily. “If you want to reach your hideout, I’d be more than happy to help. However I will not lead you into Alliance territory to be shot by a Silverwing party or mauled by naga.”

Both were locked in a stalemate and Vilien decided to to get in between them. 

“What if I suggest an alternative. You say we’re unprepared and weak. How about if I beat you in combat, you help us.”

“You want to be taught a lesson in humility, boy?” the old elf mocked. “Very well. If you can beat me, then I will be forced to admit you have some skill. If you can beat me without your weapon.”

Vilien looked at his sword, drew it and stabbed it into the ground. 

“Fine then.”

The moment Vilien agreed, the night elf dashed backwards into the forest, disappearing from sight. Makkura peacefully grabbed some fruit from her bag and began eating while Vilien was looking at the dark forest trying to spot the sneaking elf.

The apple that Makkura was eating was truly delicious, there really were no fruit like the fruit from…

A large spear like branch whirred from Vilien’s right. He dodged it well, but looks shaken and panicked, Makkura thought.

While the knight was pacing around the open field Makkura returned to eating. What exactly had she been thinking about? She could not remember. Not a big loss, at least I have this brilliant apple the priest celebrated as she sank her teeth in the bright green succulent fruit again while another spear flew past somewhere at the corner of her eye. Makkura looked up to see Vilien still standing and returned to her thoughts. 

The naga.. She had to admit she already knew this wouldn’t be a pleasant expedition, but cultists were a bit unexpected. You’d think the naga wouldn’t let something like that slip in their ancient lair. Makkura shrugged to herself. She looked up again while biting the apple.

The Old Man had come out of hiding and was interlocked with VIlien in hand to hand combat. They were exchanging violent blows while dodging each others’ punches perfectly, when Vilien got socked in the ribs quite well and was forced to jump and retreat from the night elf. Makkura lost interest and returned to planning.

Perhaps the surface levels would be sufficient? She knew what the depths hid - amazing riches and terrible danger. The murloc incident should certainly not be repeated, she concluded with absolute certainty as she looked at the fight again. Perhaps the blood elf could be useful in the future? she thought, seeing Vilien successfully punching his swift opponent in the face, making him reel back.

Now bruised and dazed, the night elf retreated into the shadows of the forest again.

Makkura’s interest was piqued and she began to watch the knight carefully. He was alert and clear; his eyes almost glowed as he scanned the forest. His hands were down, but tense and ready to strike. Suddenly he turned to Makkura and looked right past her.

“Watch out!” Vilien yelled in a panicked voice as his eyes glowed yellow and his hand got encased in a golden light that he struck her way.  
Makkura heard a bump that was followed by a thump. She looked back to see the night elf on the ground with a bloody nose.

“A paladin shield.” she said, smiling and laughing out loud as she turned to Vilien, “Very clever!”

Vilien was calming down as he realized what had happened.

The Old Man got up breathing heavily, blood dripping from his chin. With surprise in his voice said: ”I did not know that there were high elf paladins!”

“There aren’t,” the blood elf muttered to himself.

Makkura grinned and turned to bloodied night elf. “We’re leaving in the morning then?”

“Yes, yes. Your enforcer is better than I thought. You both might actually survive the deeps after all.”


	11. The Legend of the Skittering Sands. Pt. 3 Blood.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A distant time ago, before the eastern kingdoms knew Kalimdor a mighty battle was had

“NOW!” Tural bellowed as loudly as he could. Tauren suddenly rose from behind stones and trees and rammed heavy rocks from atop the ravine’s side, pushing them downward. The large boulders rolled at crushing speeds down at the large centaur war party trying to pass the canyon. Unawares the centaur were unable to react in time as the large boulders blocked their retreat, leaving them boxed in the canyon with only one exit. The centaur realized what had come upon them. The tauren tribe’s ambush was a success. Suddenly tauren warriors were coming out of hiding, blocking off the only exit with the tribe’s warchief Adrag in front. Rain was crashing down, changing the dirt under their hooves to mud and water. The clouds were dark and the storm had come.

Adrag’s mighty voice echoed in the canyon: ”CHARGE! BREAK THE CENTAUR!” The mighty battle cry rallied the two dozen tauren.They were much fewer in number than the centaur that were close to fifty, but the ambushers were well armored in leather and mail, holding large swords and maces so massive they could cleave a centaur in half. The centaur were armed with large spears and bows, but confused and in disarray as the mighty tauren came upon them slashing and crushing the disoriented enemy front. Adrag slammed into the enemy destroying the first centaur he came upon as he impaled and severed him in half and proceeded to storm upon the next and the next. Before they met the enemy, Seka got a glimpse of his friend Tural and seven more tauren running downhill to back up their allies. Seka followed Adrag as he saw the demon of a tauren destroy the first centaur he met, and did his best to follow his example, attacking the first centaur he could reach. A spear thrust his way, which Seka parried expertly and ran through the attacking centaurs upper half with his scimitar. The ambushers thinned their enemy halfway from just their first assault. The centaur however had rallied under their still alive captain and had begun their resistance, doing their best to fight back the ambush. Blade and spear met as metal banged against wood in a flurry of blood and mud, as bodies fell to the ground, both Tauren and Centaur alike. 

Seka had killed two centaur and continued to fight two more, now injured and bleeding from his left arm that had been slashed open by one unsuccessfully parried thrust. In the moments he switched to fight another enemy he glimpsed the body covered battlefield. Friends and neighbours that were lying in the bloody mud wounded his heart, but many more of the bodies were centaur. He saw not far from him a blood covered beast that was none other than Adrag who was inspiring fear upon all the enemies that had the misfortune to look at the fierce warrior. He cleaved through the centaur ruthlessly, crushing each enemy with but a few strikes. 

Their reinforcements, the ambushers that had pushed the rocks, would be coming down any moment and this battle would be decided. Suddenly loud hooves of horses were heard from behind. Seka looked back, as much as battle allowed, to see the centaur coming upon the tauren reinforcements that were about two hundred feet away, but what Seka saw then he could not believe. A few tauren from the reinforcements had suddenly turned on their brethren and were stabbing them as they were getting ready for the incoming centaur and joined them instead. In a bitter twist the leftover tauren party were soon to be surrounded by both tauren and centaur. Amongst the traitors Seka glimpsed his friend Tural who had just mercilessly slaughtered another of his brethren. While Seka swung his blade and fought back the last dozen of centaur his thoughts were running rampant. Tural had just been talking to him about his child, laughed together about their plans and hopes, reassuring each that they would survive this battle and -

“FORM A LINE, PREPARE YOUR SELVES!” violently thundered Adrag rallying the tauren fighters, but before the now sixteen tauren could organize, the swift centaur and the tauren traitors crashed into their rear killing three more without even a fight. Seka snapped out of his thoughts, rousing himself, inspired by the mighty warchief Adrag’s presence and turned to meet the attackers. The simple ambush had turned to hellish bloodbath as it became harder to move through the corpse-littered blood-soaked battlefield.  
However despite the horrible odds the tauren were holding strong, for there was no life after this battle. Were they to lose, their families, their loved ones, all else they valued would perish if they failed. So the tauren fought with all their might.

***

A loud scream came from a large tent at the tauren tribe. A roaring bluster of rain was coming down at the half empty village, roaring fires were being lit in the tents to keep the cold storm winds out of the tent as six women were all carefully tending to Asa who was lying on soft furs.  
She screamed again and again while her friend Yanai’s held her hand tightly as a midwife was tending to Asa’s needs. Asa was giving birth and all the skilled women of the elder tent were helping her deliver her child as best as they could following the midwife Surata’s orders.

“She is bleeding too much,” Surata called out urgently, “quickly find me more clean rags and some earthroot salve from the jars, I need to lessen and control the bleeding.”  
The soft bed Asa was on was covered in blood that had soaked through the many layers of soft cloths and furs she had been placed upon. She was screaming and groaning and the midwife with her assistants were doing all they could to lessen her pain. The gruesome birth continued as blood streamed from her. After what seemed like an eternity the child’s head was rearing from Asa as the midwife and Yanai were reassuring her to continue her efforts.

“Push and breathe, friend, push and breathe,” Yanai reminded her soothingly. Asa seemed incapable of comprehending or even hearing them in her the pain, but she was doing her best to focus and calm her breathing, reassuring her friend and Surata that she must have understood them through her struggle. After long hours finally the crying of a child could be heard. Asa managed to look towards the sound to see a tiny young tauren with auburn fur before she felt faint and passed out.  
“Here Yanai, hold the baby, I must tend to Asa’s wounds, she still bleeds too much,” Surata said worriedly and was passed a jar of brown and yellow salve.

***

“Tural!” thundered Adrag, “You better be damn dead when I reach you or you will regret the day you crawled into this world!”  
The warchief charged at the traitor, but was cut off by the centaur captain that attempted to impale the rage filled mighty tauren. Adrag swung his massive blade to smash the captain out of his way, but his blade was parried instead. It appeared that Adrag had met his match and they began a bloody battle.  
Seka continued his fight and looked around whenever he could. He did not know if any of his brethren would make it out alive and yet he fought with power and strength like never before in his life, inspired by the mighty warchief who was a terrifying but impressive presence on the battlefield. Battling centaur after centaur he twisted and sliced when Seka noticed Tural fighting another tauren and cutting him down. He saw an opening and batted away a centaur to an ally to instead rush towards the traitor. Unlike the warchief, he dreaded the fight with the friend he had now lost.

“How could you betray us Tural?” He called out to him in desperation as he swung his scimitar at Tural.

“You fools would all die for a couple of tents and furs!” Tural yelled back as he thrust his blade towards his friend. “I will not die as one of those fools,” The traitor yelled almost reaching Seka’s belly, but his sword clashed with Seka’s who parried with skillfully. They exchanged blows and words, striking at each other again and again.

“You betrayed all of us! You betrayed our tribe, our people, MY FAMILY!” Seka howled at him as he struck at Tural ruthlessly and with fierce strength. Their blades met again and again, clashing and grinding against each other as they were slowly becoming chipped from the sheer strength of the battle. Tural’s powerful blows were difficult to handle and with each strike Seka felt his own power fading and faltering.

Behind him deeper in the canyon the battle still went on and now the tauren were down to eight, but the centaur were still at two dozen. However the tauren did their best to parry and dodge, block and withstand each strike. The battle was being drawn out, becoming more bloody and more brutal as weapons were crushed and broken and the warriors were exchanging their swords for their fists and hooves trying bludgeon one another to death. Adrag was battling the centaur captain ruthlessly with one of the last intact weapons. He sent the blade thundering down at the centaur again and again leaving the captain parrying and blocking, reeling back and unable to retaliate. Finally, after countless blows, the captain was unable to withstand Adrag’s assault as he drove his sword past the centaur’s lance and into his shoulder. The blade cleaved deep into the captain’s chest before Adrag ripped it out, blood splattering, and slashed at the centaur’s throat and cleaved off his head.

Having witnessed the horrifying display of strength the centaurs’ will faltered and most of them fled. Seven tauren were left standing as they battled the bravest of their enemy, all tauren traitors dead, but Tural. The traitor’s eyes were wide with fear as he saw his ex-warchief set his eyes on him. Tural knew he would not live long or escape so all he had left was a hope for a clean death, but fear and panic had consumed him as Tural swung his blade at his friend again.

***  
Two days had passed when the survivors of the battle walked into the quiet village. The tribe’s shaman noticed them first and rushed to meet the warriors. 

“I must see Asa,” Adrag said tired and exhausted. He was coated in dry blood and covered with gashes and gouges, the more severe ones wrapped in dirty bandages, others surely cauterized by himself. The others looked none better, but were still standing. They were dragging the half alive traitor to the camp. 

A tauren healer interrupted: “What you need to see is a shaman and a heal-” 

“No, I must see Asa!” grumbled the warchief.

“She is deeply hurt and cannot see you now,” said the elder chief Senda who had just arrived to greet the band of surviving warriors. Looking over the few survivors the elder murmured to Adrag, “What happened to you? W-Where are the rest of you?” 

“It was a trap to kill all of us, an ambush designed by a traitor - Tural,” he gestured to the bound tauren with disgust and spat upon him. “Is Asa alright, tell me has she bore her child, are they alright?” 

“I’ve been worse,” came a tired voice from the tent and Asa slowly and carefully stepped out of the tent. “What is it that you are clamoring abou-”

Asa stopped in surprise to seeing the sight of only the seven returned tauren.

“Where is..” she stopped and winced holding her stomach tightly as she grimaced in pain. “Where is Seka?” she asked laboriously 

She had asked Adrag, but her attention was then drawn by the bound tauren who was on his knees.

“Where is Seka, Tural!?” She asked as loudly as she could bear.

“He’s dead, Asa,” said the warchief and gave time to let Asa handle his words. Tears welled up in her eyes as she succumbed to grief and pain and fell on her knees.

With dismay Adrag spoke again: “He was murdered by our own. By Tural. It is up to you to decide his fate.”

With great effort Asa got up and went up as close as she dared to the traitor, and quietly asked: “Tell me how did you kill my husband..” she paused for a bit, tears still flowing from her eyes, but now they were not of sorrow, they were of anger “..your friend. Tural... Tell me of his death. Or I will let Adrag choose what we do with you and if you hope to die a quick death you will tell me the truth.”

“W-We fought on the battlefield, it all happened so fast,” the traitor spoke in fear of the judgement of his once close friend. “I didn’t have a choice, Seka would have killed me, I didn’t know what -”

“Is that your excuse... is that why you killed the father of my son?” Asa flared with anger. “Did he say nothing to you? Did he not pass his judgement. Did you not have your excuses for your friend? TELL ME, SPINELESS MAGGOT!” She screamed, blazing with wrath. The only thing that was protecting the traitor from her rage were her severe injuries. He trembled to see her burning anger, it was not far from Adrag’s rage that he saw in the battle. Tural whimpered realizing that he was now at her mercy.

“I-I told of o-our tribe.. I explained of the folly of the e-elders. I said h-he was a fool to be in this battle. I d-didn’t want him to be there, Asa!” 

Asa roared at him: “I don’t want to hear your whining, wretch! Tell me! Tell me what did he tell you!?” 

“He s-said that I b-betrayed you,” the traitorous coward was crying and whimpering, unable to hold his fear to himself, “He said I betrayed his people and his tribe.. He said I was his closest friend, he said that I can still turn back..”

Asa was boiling with burning rage, welling with anger and grief: “AND WHAT DID YOU DO!?” she screamed in his face. “YOU DROVE YOUR SWORD THROUGH HIS BEATING HEART, YOU MONSTER, YOU TREACHEROUS ABOMINATION!” she drove her fist into his face knocking out a splatter of blood and teeth. Pained, she grasped at her stomach. 

“That’s enough, Asa!” Yanai cried, “You have to rest!” she held up Asa on her shoulder and helped her up. “You mustn't push yourself any further.”

“Fine, friend..” she told Yanai now quietly with an empty expression, “tie him to some tree and cut open his legs. Let him starve there as carrions feast on his filthy flesh. Let his soul rot and him never be forgiven by his ancestors. May his filthy entrails be cursed for an eternity,” she said losing her breath. As she was taken into the tent, she quietly cursed him one last time ”I hope you suffer for days before you give out.” 

The traitor wailed for her mercy as he was dragged off to his inevitable death. Asa was helped to the tent. Her son was crying in a fur basket next to her bed. Asa lied down and tried to calm herself in order to soothe him. “Hush my child.. You will have to meet your father another day. Hush now, Galtir. Hush now.”


End file.
